


A Lesson Learned

by DittyWrites



Series: Scarecrow/Riddler Shenanigans [19]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 09:49:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15638277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: After being captured by the Batman and one of his Robins', Edward Nygma is understandably furious and he decides to take revenge in the most immature of ways and enlists his partner, Jonathan Crane, to help him exact his vengeance.





	A Lesson Learned

As Edward continued to mutter and mumble his threats of vengeance towards the Batman, Jonathan could only barely refrain from an eye-roll.

“Your insistence on leaving clues for your crimes, despite my protests, is your own damn fault.” He bit out, irritated. “This is your fault. If we had followed my plan then we would still be enjoying our freedom at the moment and not captured like rats.”

“I hate this vehicle,” continuing his bitching, Edward would not be stopped, “and I hate these containment cubes.” He paused to rub his nose.

“These chairs ar- wait,” Jonathan interrupted himself, “are your hands free?”

Dangling his handcuffs from one finger, Edward grinned.

“I am a man of many talents.”

“So how do you plan revenge for all those lost months of work?” Jonathan asked, ignoring Edwards’ hidden skill set.

Usually he would not care for Edwards’ ramblings but he was bored enough to endure them.

“In the long run? I have one or two ideas.” Edward confessed. “But what I am more interested in, is the short-term pleasures. I really do hate how much the Dark Knight values this vehicle.”

Running his hand up Jonathans’ thigh, Edward possessed a truly wicked look.

“Edward.” Jonathan warned, already feeling a twitch where he would prefer not to, given the circumstances.

“Oh hush,” Edward chastised, fingers fumbling at Jonathans’ zipper, “just lie back and think of Paris.”

“I hate Paris.”  
  
“Stop being miserable and enjoy the ride.”

“I would rather you didn-” Jonathans’ words were cut off by a low hiss as Edward slipped his hand through his boxers, his warm hand now in full contact with his cock.

“What?” Edward feigned ignorance as he moved his hand in a practised fashion. “I missed that? Did you say stop?”

“For once in your life,” groaned lightly despite his attempts to bite his lower lip as Edward manipulated him, Jonathan turned his crotch towards Edward, “shut up.”

Freeing Jonathan fully from his trousers, Edward dug into his pocket for the small bottle of hand lotion which he kept on him before squirting a little into his palm and warming it up.

Returning his hand to Jonathan, he was quick to work the semi-hard shaft into something to could actually work with without too much effort.

Jonathan, to his credit, was handling the situation with considerable grace. His expression was dead-pan with the odd movement of his jaw as Edward hit a particularly sensitive spot and the odd moan which he was unable to hold back being the only hints as to his enjoyment.

So lost in the act, both men jumped in surprise as the batmobile breaks slammed to life, their chest confines being the only thing keeping them from any injury.

“Busted.” Edward smirked. “Well, time to hurry.”

Increasing the pace, he twisted his wrist on every downwards stroke as he fought to beat the timer which had been set to him. Jonathan, to his credit, seemed just as enthusiastic as he used what little purchase he had to thrust into Edwards hand.

With a final moan which he was unable to bite back, Jonathan reached his release with a flourish as he allowed Edward to finish him off with a few gentle tugs.

Breathing heavily, Jonathan glanced down at the small, inappropriate mess and he scowled.

“Oh, thanks a lot, Edward. That’s just wonderful. What a sight for all to behold.”

“You ungrateful bastard,” Edward laughed, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket and using it to clean up the mess before tucking Jonathan back into his trousers, “most people would just say ‘thank you’ and mean it.”

Dropping the handkerchief on the floor, Edward barely had time to slap a satisfied grin on his face before the boot doors opened.

x-x-x-x-x

From the moment he and Damian had apprehended the duo, Bruce could sense that something terrible was going to happen. His sixth sense was usually infallible but both men had been easy enough to secure within the batmobile and he had been lulled into a false security.

However, the groan which was relayed from the boot to his comm system instantly put him on high alert. Narrowing his eyes, he increased the volume of the microphone to determine what was going on.

Neither man had been too gravely injured to justify an agonised groan but there was always a chance he had missed something vital.

Ears straining, he could see Damian matching his posture as he also fought to detect any possible misgivings but it was still too silent so he turned the dial up a few more notches.

Another soft groan became audible but the most concerning thing, or the thing which had Bruce slamming on the brakes and thankful that he enforced a strict seatbelt policy within the car, was the soft, rhythmic sound of flesh-on-flesh which was unmistakeable.

“Father? Are they fighting again? I thought they were handcuffed?” Damian asked, momentarily confused before he sought out Bruces’ eye. “Would you like me to go back and stop them?”

“NO!” Bruce exclaimed in panic as he pulled the slowed vehicle into a nearby lay-by. “No, no. I will deal with them.” He insisted, attempting to save his ten year old son from any further trauma. “Stay here.”

Snatching his door open, he swept from the car in one smooth movement and approached the boot which was now suspiciously silent. He did not know what was worse. The sound of movement which implied the act, or the silence which suggested an end.

As the boot burst open and exposed the two bastards, Bruce could not have been less impressed with the sight despite his internal thankfulness that nothing explicit was on show.

Cranes’ flushed expression, defiant despite his well-concealed embarrassment.

Nygmas’ smug expression, daring him to comment, to act, to do something.

No denying what had just occurred. Even the air was tinged with the scent of sweat and-

Bruce counted to ten in some vague attempt to resist reaching out and strangling Nygma and he instead settled on replacing the handcuffs. After a moments thought, he added a thick zip-tie to the bonds to ensure that he could not escape again.

“Were they fighting, father?” A small voice cut into his thoughts.

Moving at a speed Barry Allen would have been envious of, Bruce cut off Damian as he emerged from the car and moved towards the boot.

“Back into the car, Robin!” Bruce commanded, voice bordering no argument. “Now!”

Tutting his disapproval of the tone being used again him, Damian hesitated for a second before following his instructions.

“The perks of fatherhood, eh, Batman?” Edward cut in, his amusement at the situation clear. “How difficult it must be.”

“Be quiet.” Bruce growled, “Nygma, I wouldn’t put a stunt like this past, but you, Crane? I expected better.”

“Why?” Jonathan scowled. “What possible reason would you have for assuming such a thing?”

Not wanting to follow up that line of questioning, Bruce instead pressed his gauntlet and the metal whirring of the car as it closed the boot filled the quiet street.

“Alfred,” he spoke into his comms, “I am bringing Nygma and Crane to the GCPD to be processed and then I will return to the cave. Can you prepare some replacement upholstery for the rear of the Batmobile?” He paused. “And possible some bleach.”

“Of course, Master Wayne.” Alfreds’ smooth voice came through after a moment. “May I ask what has brought on this redesign?”

A flush of embarrassment overcame Bruce and he mentally cursed the pair who were no doubt still laughing at his expense.

“Trust me, Al, you don’t want to know.” He muttered.


End file.
